


Blossoming

by wickedlore



Series: Drarry AUs [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drarry, Fight Sex, Fights, Fist Fights, Gryffindor, Hogwarts, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Slytherin, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 10:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedlore/pseuds/wickedlore
Summary: A soulmate AU where the the first time to fully put your palm against your soulmate or vice versa, the area turns black. In this oneshot, Harry and Draco get into a fight in the corridor that turns into something much more pleasurable.





	Blossoming

     Not everyone has a soulmate. A few go without a presence by their sides, which is okay, but I do not desire that kind of life. I do not want to be one of those people.

     I am Draco Malfoy, and I am afraid. There are not many things I fear. Perhaps I used to fear the dark, and the monsters that liked to hide out in my closet sometimes, but now my fears are more substantial. They feel more real, and less like a hazy dream.

     I am afraid of coming out. I am afraid of my parents, I am afraid of Tom Riddle, I am afraid of failure. But most of all, I fear not ever finding my soulmate. I suppose that means I am actually afraid of a lot of things. But, compared to my friends' fears, I am strong... or weak, depending on what side you peer in from.

     Pansy Parkinson is still afraid of the dark. It's a fear that permeates her very being, rendering her unable to sleep with the other girls. So, she sleeps by the emerald green fireplace in the Slytherin common room. She is also afraid of failure, like me, and loud things, unlike me, amongst many other things.

     Blaise Zabini is afraid of nothing, and everything. At first glance, he may seem fearless. He does all the crazy things that all of our peers want him to do during late night games of truth or dares, he is always first to volunteer in the more dangerous of our classes, and he likes to talk to the squid in the Black Lake sometimes. But while it seems as if he fears none of these things, in fact, he fears all of them.

     Thus, I may seem like the strongest of my friend group, if we are discussing strong in a more traditional sense. But every time I think of it, the more and more I think I may be wrong.

💕💕💕

     Professor Snape's words bleed together like dripping paint. My gaze drifts from student to student, my heart hammering as I see a black handprint around somebody's wrist. One of the people in this room could be my soulmate. Or, perhaps not.

     Girl or boy, man or woman, perhaps something otherwise, I have absolutely no idea what the gender of my soulmate could be, nor who I am actually attracted to. I have never before had a crush. I think.

     I think, I say, because, as my gaze comes to rest upon Harry Potter, my heart gives a butterfly flutter. He is gorgeous, alright; golden skin, peridot eyes, and wind tossed raven hair, what you may imagine the epitome of a summer's day to look like.

     I am the opposite; my skin is white as snow, my hair such a pale blonde it could pass as silver, and my eyes icy blue. I am the winter to his summer.

     The moment he rejected my handshake leaves a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. For a second, I close my eyes and imagine that we did touch hands, and when we separated, our palms were black as soot.

     "Mr. Malfoy, take care to pay attention, will you?" Snape drawls, and my eyes snap open, a blush dancing upon my cheeks. Though, nobody seems to care; everybody is involved in their own work.

     Speaking of which, I pick up my quill and quickly begin scratching down my essay.

💕💕💕

     Before, the emotion I felt when I looked at Harry Potter was lust and want. However, when I look at him at this moment, pure, unadulterated anger rushes through my system. The dinner hall's noise recedes to a raging buzz at the back of my mind.

     When I stand, Pansy and Blaise startle, but only watch with curious gazes as I march over to the Gryffindor table and grab the collar of Harry's robe. His gorgeous eyes widen.

     "You, me, hallway," I hiss, and drop him back onto his seat, whirling around and marching into the hallway and out of the Great Hall.

     I have hardly had time to feel regret or mortification at my own actions as Harry cautiously follows me, his footsteps near silent.

     "Malfoy, I don't know what you want, but-" He lets out a startled yell as I grab the front of his shirt and slam him against the wall, our noses nearly brushing. But not quite. I am half tempted to press my nose to his to see if it leave a black mark, but I restrain myself.

     I can practically hear his racing heart as I speak. "You have no idea how good you have it," I spit bitterly. "Dumbledore's affections, probably the perfect family that adores you-"

     Suddenly, his hand whips across my cheek. I stumble back, startled, shielding my face with my hands.

     "What the fuck?!" I yell, and when I glance at him from between my fingers, I see that his face is scarlet.

     "Don't you dare," he shouts, fuming, "to assume a single thing about my family life. You have no fucking clue what goes on in my house, you damn prick."

     I am surprised and remorseful to recognize the glittering in his eyes as angry tears. "Well, I just thought-"

     "You thought!" he thunders. "Stop assuming things about me for a moment, will you? You know absolutely nothing about me."

     My heart drops as I realize what he said is, in fact, truth. If I think for a second, I recognize that I only know what the public knows about him, which is pretty much next to nothing.

     But I won't bow down to apologize. I remove my hands from my cheeks, and ball them by my side. "You're one to talk about assumptions, Potter-"

     His panicked gasp cuts off my words. I stare at him in confusion, my brow wrinkling. "What?"

     He doesn't respond, but instead glances at his hand. When I try to do the same, he quickly moves it out of sight, to my frustration.

     He marches towards me, and presses me up against the wall, his breaths desperate gasps. Pleading gasps.

     "Please," he practically begs, "don't assume anything about me, and I won't assume anything about you. Promise?"

     Harry's change in tone startles me. I stare at him peculiarly for a moment, and when I start to squirm to move out of his grasp, I still.

     "Oh, Merlin," I snort, hardly holding back my laughter.

     Red rises to his face once more, but he pretends that he doesn't know what I'm talking about. "What?"

     "Merlin's beard, you have a raging boner!" I burst into laughter, and press myself against the wall, heat blooming in my cheeks. Then, my giggles cease when the full heaviness of the situation hits me like a tidal wave.

     Holy shit. Harry Potter has a raging boner. For me. I swallow thickly and make no further move to disentangle myself, and instead study Harry's gaze, which is so skillfully avoiding my stare. A blush has made its way onto his sharp face.

     Then, against my better judgement, I press my lips to his jawbone. He gasps as I switch our positions so that I'm pinning him against the wall, and he squirms, though I can tell by his little moans that he isn't actually trying to get lose.

     "Dear Merlin, Malfoy," he whispers, the whites of his eyes flashing at me as he rapidly blinks.

     As I'm about to put my lips on his, he opens his eyes with a snap. "Wait, Draco, I need to tell you something-"

 _He called me Draco._ My body beginning to hum in tune with him, I cut his words off with a fiery kiss, my hands dancing down his sides. His come to rest cautiously on my shoulders, but instead of pushing me away as expected, he only squeezes them before exploring my covered back with his wandering fingertips.

     Once he reaches the bottom of my shirt, he roughly untucks it and slides his hands up my shirt. My nostrils flare with pleasant surprise.

     " _Abscondam_ ," he whispers abruptly, and the world around us blurs.

     I startle. "What was that?"

     A subtle smirk blossoms on his face, and the ice in my heart starts to melt. "You know, just a cloaking spell."

     As soon as he finishes his sentence,  students burst out of the Great Hall and begin to make their ways to their classes, though they don't notice us. Obviously.

     I can't help but smile. "Brilliant," I whisper, then remove my hands from his sides and slide one of them down his pants. His face flushes, and he pushes roughly against my hand, his eyes fluttering closed.

     "Merlin," Harry breathes, his words choked out. "Keep going."

     I place a smattering of kisses along the side of his throat as I palm him. His breaths become shaky, and he turns his cheek so it's pressed against the cold, stone wall. The sharp line of his jaw makes my groin ache.

     When he finally finishes, his breath his a stutter, and almost all of the students have dispersed. He presses his face to my  shoulder and inhales.

     "You smell good," he whispers, and I laugh softly.

     "I smell as I always have."

     "Exactly." My heart skips a beat.

     Then, still hazy with bliss, Harry spins me around and drops to his knees. My lips part. "What are you doing?"

     "Returning the favor, of course." As his fingers fiddle with the buttons of my trousers, I exhale deeply, and begin to run my hands through his hair. He shudders at the sensation.

     When he finally brings his lips to me, I let out a full on moan, startling the students around me. Harry glances up at me. When he notices my aghast look, he smirks.

     "Oh, did I mention that the cloaking spell doesn't work for sound?"

     At this point, red must completely stain my face. "I'll be quiet."

     His tongue darts between his rosebud lips. "No, please don't."

     And so when he engulfs me again, I let out a similar moan to before, gripping his hair with such ferocity that he curses against my skin.

     "Please," I whisper, my bliss nearly overtaking me. "Don't stop."

     He peers up at me through his heavy lashes. "I won't."

     Soon afterwards, I finish with a shuddering sigh, my hands falling from his hair to cup his cheeks. For some reason, his gaze keeps on wondering to the spot below my cheekbone.

     As I begin to zip up my pants, I look at him curiously. "What? And - before you say anything - we will never, ever do anything like this again, you hear me? I refuse it."

     For some reason, his face drains of color. "That'll be a bit difficult," he says weakly.

     "Why so?" I don't have the energy to be rude. Instead, I want to stroke his cheek and kiss him softly, as if he's as delicate as a blossoming flower. But I don't. I won't.

     He doesn't respond. Instead, he slowly raises his right hand, and I can hardly take in the sight of what I see. His entire hand is stained black.

     I swallow thickly, and try to speak, but it feels as if there's honey coating the inside of my mouth.

     Finally, I manage, "Why didn't you say anything before?"

     "I was going to." His blush deepens.

     Soon enough, I finally register what the darkness on his hand means. My fingers fly to my cheek.

     "Are you saying - do I-"

     "Yes. You have a handprint on your face," he deadpans, and instead of standing up from where he rests on his knees, he sits down entirely, defeated.

     I try to focus on anything other than his face. When I instead end up setting my sights on the smear of whitish fluid on his pants, I quickly snap my gaze back to his face.

     My voice is soft as ash, like the petals of a wildflower. "I'm happy it's you."

     His head snaps up. "What?"

     "You heard what I said." I kneel down and take his chin gently in my hand, lifting his face so that we make eye contact. We both hold it.

     "I'm happy it's you," I repeat, not even angry that I now have a handprint, black as night and just as prominent, on my cheek.

     Instead of being shocked or angry or anything bad at all, I undo the cloaking spell so that we are revealed to the students that still linger, and gently kiss him, drawing gasps from the crowd.

     And I let my love for him blossom.


End file.
